


always catching up to you

by Cinnamonbookworm



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Highschool AU, Lieutenant Duckling, baby killian is punk killian, based loosely on teenage dirtbag by wheatus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 04:15:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3367436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinnamonbookworm/pseuds/Cinnamonbookworm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>They’ve been walking to school on the same path for as long as he can remember.<br/>Ever since the Nolans moved in next door, there she’s been, walking just a bit ahead of him, blonde hair blowing in the breeze.<br/>Maybe its fate or destiny or something that makes it so he can never catch up to her. She’s always slightly out of his way, like the universe is trying to tell him that she’s above him, ahead of him, that he doesn’t have a chance. The universe shouldn’t need to tell him that, though, because Killian Jones already knows that he does not stand a chance with Emma Nolan. <i></i></i><br/>a captain swan secret valentine present for asianfrustration13 on tumblr</p>
            </blockquote>





	always catching up to you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [asianfrustration13](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=asianfrustration13).



> This is based loosely off of Teenage Dirtbag by Wheatus. Also, in this AU, Killian started being more punk-rock after his dad left him and Liam when Liam was seventeen, keeping the older brother from going to college and causing them to look after each other themselves.
> 
> [accompanying 8tracks mix](http://8tracks.com/readingqueen811/always-catching-up-to-you)

They’ve been walking to school on the same path for as long as he can remember.

Ever since the Nolans moved in next door, there she’s been, walking just a bit ahead of him, blonde hair blowing in the breeze.

Maybe its fate or destiny or something that makes it so he can never catch up to her. She’s always slightly out of his way, like the universe is trying to tell him that she’s above him, ahead of him, that he doesn’t have a chance. The universe shouldn’t need to tell him that, though, because Killian Jones already knows that he does not stand a chance with Emma Nolan.

That is why his dream the other night was so strange.

He doesn’t remember much of it, just bits a pieces. He remembers a tall beanstalk, like in the fairytale. He remembers the fear he’d felt at losing Liam. He remembers green and jungle and coconuts. He remembers a red dress and a green ring. He remembers her looking at him with fondness. He remembers her doing more than that.

Like anything like that would ever happen.

Still, it kind of makes him want to get out of the house and to school a little earlier than usual, on the off chance that he might actually run into her. He does leave time to line his eyes with the usual black smudges and throw on a leather jacket, though. And grab his music. He never leaves the house without a decent amount of loud music blasting into his ears.

He wanted to run into her. Not _run into her_. But that is exactly what happens.

He’s racing out the door, hurrying because the longer he takes, the longer Liam will have to notice that he hasn’t eaten breakfast yet, and he _really_ is not in the mood to talk to his brother about how breakfast isn’t that necessary, and they should save the food for later, when he turns the corner, away from their shoddy apartment complex, and literally runs into Emma Swan.

Both of their book bags explode, burying him in a pile of binders and calculators, and copies of Catch-22.

“Sorry!” She exclaims, although her voice sounds more annoyed than sorry. “I didn’t see you.”

He’s never actually heard her talk before, so he doesn’t realize its her until he shoves his Algebra II binder off of his face. By then it’s too late. He’s already started his sentence. “Not a problem, love…”

Her green eyes are looking at him with mild concern, frosted with a very large amount of annoyance, and her mouth is turned into a small frown, which does nothing to distract him from her perfect high cheekbones, framed by a cascading waterfall of long blonde hair.

_Shit._

Her eyebrows narrow at his _love_ , but she reaches down a hand anyway to help pull him up.

“You look familiar.” She starts, after she’s pulled him up, bending down to gather up her books.

“I believe we go to the same school.” He responds, still kind of in awe that he’s actually talking to her.

“Emma Swan.” She once again extends a hand.

“Killian Jones.” He shakes it, trying to ignore the tingles making their way up his arm.

“Who were you running from in such a hurry?”

“My bloody brother Liam.”

“Why?”

“Sibling spat, nothing to concern yourself with, love.”

Emma rolls her eyes at the ‘love.’ He should probably tone it down a bit, but, for some reason, now that he’s talking to her, he’s quite enjoying annoying her.

“Is that a swan on your wrist?” He asks, pointing to the small birdlike charm she has hanging on the silver chain wrapped around her wrist.

“Yeah. I’ve always loved them. Some little girls loved horses or dogs, I loved swans, guess it stuck.”

“I’ve no idea why you would; they’re evil bastards.”

“Hey!” She admonishes, but she must catch the teasing glance in his eye, because he face softens a bit, and her frown turns into a smirk.

She finishes gathering her books. “Well, see you around, Jones.”

“See you, Swan.”

She glares at him for that, but he’s sure she’s not actually angry.

 

⚓♥♛

 

He doesn’t think she’ll remember much of him, and she doesn’t, at least for a few days. Sometimes when they’re walking to school, though, she’ll look back and smile a bit. Its not until that Friday that she even says a word to him again.

Killian is eating lunch; the same garbled soup that he has been for the past few weeks, ever since Liam made it, and nothing else, when she comes over.

“Do you eat that everyday?” She asks, all green eyes and blonde hair, as she sits down across the empty table from him.

He can’t deny that his blue eyes get a little wider.

“You curious, love?”

Emma narrows her eyes at him a bit a usual at his _love_ , but she soldiers on.

“You just always seem to be eating soup, and it _can’t_ be because you like it so much, because I see the faces you make when you first taste it every day.”

“So you’ve been watching me?”

She blushes a little at that.

“I just wanted to make sure you weren’t lying that you went here. And then I started wondering about the soup. So seriously, why do you have soup every day?”

“Maybe I _do_ like it, love, ever thought of that?”

She leans across the table a bit more, and he can smell her caramel perfume. “I’m going to let you in on a little secret.” Emma whispers. “I am really good at telling when people are lying, and you, mister, are.”

And she’s right, he is lying, but he can’t tell her the truth, not now, not when she’s finally talking to him, and leaning close enough to him that he can count her eyelashes. So instead, he just mutters, “Not all of us can have a lunch made for royalty, Swan.”

She gets kind of quiet after that.

And then she goes back to her table.

He should’ve known he would blow it with her. Emma talking to him was probably just a one time thing. Nothing else.

Except its not.

Sure, she doesn’t sit with him every day at lunch, but, he mysteriously seems to find a treat in his locker every day, with a sticky note saying nothing, but having a drawing of a swan on it.

One day, its a coconut fritter. He enjoys that a lot.

Also, she starts to walk with him to school. They don’t talk a lot, mostly because she rolls her eyes at almost everything he says, and he’s not sure he wants to keep teasing her if she’s going to keep going out of her way to do nice things for him.

So they just walk together, and he listens to his music, on loud, to try and drown out the loud pounding of his heart every time a wisp of her hair flies in his face or her fingers accidentally touch him.

 

⚓♥♛

 

There’s a formal dance coming up, and Killian wouldn’t even consider going, if there wasn’t free food included in the invitation, and if it wasn’t the same night that Liam has a job interview two towns away, and doesn’t want him home alone.

In truth, Killian thinks that Liam’s excuse about the landlord kicking them out if he left his younger brother alone for another night is just a ploy to get him to go to the formal.

“I worry about you, Killian; you don’t seem to have any friends your own age. And don’t say Tink, because we both know she only comes around here when she needs to hide from her foster mother. Honestly, I don’t know why Azura is even allowed to be a foster mother.”

Killian doesn’t even try to protest. He knows its true. There is Tink, his on and off again girlfriend, who might just be the only soul just as broken as he is, but Liam has already said she doesn’t count. And then there’s his books, which really are the only friends he needs.

Books never leave you alone in the middle of the night with little-to-no money.

Books don’t die from cancer when their children are only two and seven.

Books don’t stumble in wasted after throwing away the next three month’s rent gambling.

Books are safer.

So, here he is, sitting on the outskirts of the lodge’s dancefloor, tie loose and white button-up crumpled because he couldn’t find an iron, judging everybody else with Tink, who is wearing a dress from a thrift store to make some sort of statement that she won’t put up with everybody else’s shit.

They are technically going together, but Tink has made it pretty clear that if he tries anything with her, she will dunk him in the punch, and he can’t keep his eyes off of Emma.

She’s dancing with her ex-boyfriend, whose name he can’t remember, and she looks pretty uncomfortable, but he’d watched how the crowd surrounding her when she’d been asked looked at her expectantly, and how she’d said yes rather hesitantly. A red floor-length dress billows out from her slim waist, but leaves her pale arms and shoulders rather exposed. Her ex is eyeing her rather hungrily.

Killian wishes he had a book so he didn’t have to watch.

Instead, he just plugs his headphones in and blasts some music to distract himself. Tink is ranting about someone or other, but he’s heard her rants, and agreed with them, so many times that he’s sure she won’t mind if he tunes this one out.

He’s not sure exactly how much time passes, but then someone is tapping him on his shoulder, and he can’t tell who, because his eyes are closed, but he sure isn't expecting to see a red swan flying slightly above him, face kind and eyes wide.

Her hand is behind her back, and he’s pretty sure she’s holding something.

He takes his headphones out.

“You’re a pretty big fan of the Lost Boys, right?” She asks, pursing her pink lips.

He’s slightly confused as to how she knows this, but he nods his head anyways in response.

“I’m only asking, because your music is always on so loud and so I’ve started hearing the songs when we walk to school together, so then I started getting interested in them. Basically, you’ve made me a fan, and,” she pulls out two white pieces of paper from behind her back, “I have two tickets to their next concert. Do you want one?”

His throat gets a little dry. Maybe its because of the thought of going to one of their concerts. Maybe its because Tink not-so-accidentally used his cup of punch to ruin one of her enemies’ night. Maybe its because he’s pretty sure Emma is asking him out.

He doesn’t answer for a few seconds, and her face falls. “Oh. Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“Yes, swan, I would love to accompany you to a concert.”

“When you put it that way, it sounds like a date.” She mumbles, and then she’s the one blushing. “I mean… it could be… if you wanted it to be.”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

“You know, I would’ve thought you would go for another bird like yourself, Swan, perhaps the pigeon that sits outside Mr. Gold’s room.”

“Just because you call me a Swan, Killian, doesn’t mean I _am_ one.”

“That is debatable.”

“Just shut up and dance with me.”

He obliges.

And he doesn’t step on her toes. Not even once.


End file.
